


I'll Be Your Shield

by LaLunaWritesStuff



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Recovery, a bit of angst, cryo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-07-23 15:12:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7468542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaLunaWritesStuff/pseuds/LaLunaWritesStuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>*tap tap* Is this thing on?<br/>I'm usually not active in writing Stucky stuff, but I couldn't help myself this time, so let's see where this goes =) Tell me what you think about it if you like, and stay tuned for the next chapter!<br/>Enjoy reading <3</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> *tap tap* Is this thing on?  
> I'm usually not active in writing Stucky stuff, but I couldn't help myself this time, so let's see where this goes =) Tell me what you think about it if you like, and stay tuned for the next chapter!  
> Enjoy reading <3

The cold is gone. 

It’s surprising to Bucky, because that’s always been a part of his waking process.  
Usually whatever Hydra doctor was assigned to him would just turn on the thawing process in his cryo chamber and leave him there, until he was ready for his next assignment.  
It was always barely warm enough to thaw him fully, let alone dry his skin or ease the freezing cold that seemed to linger deep in his bones for days afterwards.  
Long before his body could move, Bucky remembered feeling the cold creep into every inch of his body, even his blood still felt like icy water when it began running through his veins again.  
His skin would break out in goosebumps under the damp clothing and he would grind his teeth because that was the only thing he could to get his mind off things. 

But this time, it was different.  
Bucky took a slow breath and the air felt good in his lungs, warm and clean.  
There was something soft underneath his right hand and he ran the pad of his index finger over it, realizing with slight wonder that it was something made of soft cloth. His body was wrapped in it, too. 

Bucky knew he wasn’t in the cryo chamber anymore, because when he tentatively opened one eye – still expecting, dreading, to see some dark hideout materialize before him despite knowing better – there were only white ceiling tiles, some of them glowing softly. The light was so much easier to his eyes, so much better than the stinging glare of bare light bulbs that usually greeted him. 

Everything felt so warm and soft and for just a moment it was just too out of place. 

“Bucky?”

The voice didn’t startle him.  
It calmed him down again, set everything right because it sounded soft, gentle, familiar.  
“Steve?” 

Bucky opened both his eyes now, turned his head carefully and saw Steve sitting next to him, hands barely toughing the edge of the bed Bucky was in. 

“Hi,” he said quietly and it felt good smiling back at him. 

“Hi,” Bucky replied, huffing out a laugh and closing his eyes again, because after all that’s happened, you’d expect a profound greeting worthy for the history books that Steve already starred in so many times.  
But that just wouldn’t be them.  
No, a simple “hi” was more like them, so much more unspoken but understood between them with just a small word. 

“How’re you feelin’?” Steve asked, his voice still soft like he knew the thawing always made Bucky’s senses overly sensitive for a while. 

“Good. Did you ... do all this?”

His voice was still hoarse, his throat felt cold and raw, but he knew the serum was already working on it. With a small gesture of his right hand, Bucky tried to encompass the room and all the amenities.  
“No ... well, some of it,” Steve admitted with that cheeky smile of his. “The doctors did a lot. Do you ... do you know where we are?”

Bucky understood why Steve would ask that, but it still irked him just the tiniest bit.  
“Yes. – Wait, we’re still in Wakanda, right?”  
“We are,” Steve said and a smile tugged at his lips again. 

Bucky watched Steve reach over to pour water into a cup, and the soft lights on the ceiling reflected on something to Bucky’s left.  
When he looked down, for the first time since waking, he startled. 

He had a _new arm_. 

Steve of course noticed his staring. Bucky looked to Steve, then back to his arm. 

“What ...”

Steve leaned over with a cup of water in his hands, tilting it so very carefully to Bucky’s lips to let him have a few sips. It tasted crisp and was just slightly cooled, but didn’t help the worries creeping up in Bucky’s mind. 

“The doctors made it for you before they woke you up. It’s brand new, Vibranium, just like the other one ... it doesn’t hurt, does it?” Steve asked, concern suddenly evident in his voice, his brows slowly drawing together. 

For long minutes, Bucky didn’t know what to say. 

He was torn, actually. 

Yes, he was happy to have his arm back, because ... well, of course he preferred two arms to one. And he did grow accustomed to his left hand being shining silver instead of flesh. 

But ...

It was still a weapon. 

“Buck ... are you okay?”

Bucky looked up to meet his friend’s eyes. Steve looked guarded, which was probably alright.  
“It ... Steve, why ... why do I have this?” Bucky eventually ground out, feeling desperate and too vulnerable. He was so glad there was nobody else in the room, although he had a feeling that they were watched.  
Probably for the better. 

“Because,” Steve began answering his question. “You need it. And ...”  
“We’re gonna fight again?” Bucky replied, regretting that he sounded so reluctant.  
“No, that’s not what I’m here for-” Steve said in a way that didn’t allow arguments, but Bucky had never been one to let Steve evade an explanation like this.  
“Alright ... but why do I have it, then?” Bucky repeated, wiggling his new metal fingers. It felt good doing this again, this arm seemed to be better than the one Hydra made him. The metal was overly shiny, polished and looking brand new. The joints of the metal plates made absolutely no sound no matter how he moved the fingers or wrists.  
It was perfect, but still ...  
“Steve, why do I have this _weapon_ again?”  
“It’s not a weapon.”  
“It is on me. Just a few words-“  
“No,” Steve interrupted and Bucky glared at him, then looked down because he didn’t want to be angry. 

Actually Bucky did want to be happy and he was really grateful to have an arm, but ... but he didn’t feel like he deserved it. It was hard admitting this even inside the confines of his own mind, but it was the truth.  
He didn’t feel worthy of so much attention and care.  
Not if all that could be weaponized with just a few code words.  
“Bucky, listen,” Steve said and Bucky merely tilted his head a little in his direction to show him that he understood. 

“Nobody will use you like this anymore.”

Bucky’s head snapped up, his eyes meeting Steve’s.  
“You mean ...?”  
Steve nodded slowly, but there was no smile on his lips. Still, his eyes were hopeful, happy, even.  
“We might have found a way to help you. I ... I’m really no good at explaining this, but ... well, I personally think it'll help, but it might not, so-”  
“I don’t care. Let them do it!”  
“They will, don’t worry – here,” he said, offering the cup again and this time Bucky tentatively reached out with his flesh hand and tilted Steve’s hand holdint the cup, drinking a few long sips. 

“I thought you’d be happy to have the arm right away... well, it’s not the same, but ... I don’t know, it sounds silly now that I think about it, but ...” Steve trailed off, taking the empty cup back to refill it. 

“This one’s _mine_ ,” Bucky finished for him, his voice a bit soothed by the serum working in overdrive to fully thaw him, and the water easing the soreness.  
“Yes,” Steve just said, quietly and with that smile of his that Bucky liked to think he was the only one ever getting to see it. 

 

“So ... what now?” Bucky asked after yet another cup of water, trying to sit up slowly. Steve’s hands were on him immediately, helping Bucky lean into the pillows behind his back.  
“We’ll wait until you’re recovered from cryo. And then I’ll show you ... something.”  
Bucky knew that look.  
He grinned.  
“What, got a surprise for me?” he asked, remembering one of his birthdays – he couldn’t quite recall which one – where Steve had looked just like this.  
“Yeah. You’ll see.”

They spend some time together quietly, just sitting there, musing over their own thoughts, until Bucky started questioning Steve about all kinds of things. It turned out he had been in cryo for only about ten months, relatively short compared to the past.  
A lot of things had happened in the world; the Avengers were still split and Steve had been in Wakanda almost the whole time. He didn’t say much about the rest of the team, but Bucky could guess they were either hiding or Tony’d gotten his government-controlled hands on them. 

“So there’s no fight?” Bucky eventually asked, carefully reaching out with his new metal hand to grab the empty plastic cup.  
His new fingers moved even more delicately, he felt a lot more when he closed them around the fragile cup – no comparison to his flesh hand, but good enough to be a pleasant surprise. 

“There always is, somewhere. But I don’t always need to be there. I need to be here now.”

 

“I’m glad you do,” Bucky admitted quietly, looking down at his hands, old and new, his fingers interlaced around the cup. A smile on his lips. 

***************************************************************************

Bucky stayed in the hospital room for another night – he learned later that it was just that, because a nurse eventually checked on him just before nightfall – then Steve took him outside. 

Wakanda was a beautiful place, a thriving city full of technology even better than in all the novels about future science, framed by a dense jungle. Bucky thought that this was perfect for Steve to draw and paint, all the different greens and the patterns of plants mixed together. 

 

Steve had an apartment, issued by King T'Challa himself, where he took Bucky after their walk. It was nice and modern, but small, about the size of their old shared apartment in Brooklyn before the war.  
Bucky had no doubt that Steve could have something more luxurious if he wanted to, but humble as he was, Steve would be okay with this. Well, Bucky was, too. Big, open spaces just made him too paranoid and alert all the time, if he was honest to himself. 

Bucky sat on the couch while Steve prepared a snack for them, flicking through the TV channels. There were so many available in all languages, but Bucky ultimately settled for an english news channel, just to catch up on things. 

The moment Tony was on the news for some kind of science achievement, Bucky turned off the TV, having seen more than enough. He didn't want to be angry right now. 

While Steve was chopping fruit in the kitchen, Bucky looked around, noticed some of their belongings in the room. His own black backpack sat in the corner next to a bookshelf, as if waiting for Bucky to pick it up.  
He felt happy seeing that Steve had kept that for him. 

There were some art books on the bookshelf, and a cell phone on the coffee table. A narrow hallway lead to two more rooms, one of which Bucky guessed was a bathroom, and one was a bedroom, which he could see through the open door. The bed was made, of course, and there was a sketchpad on the comforter. 

The shield was nowhere to be seen, of course, and Bucky didn't allow his thoughts to linger on this fact as well. Again, he did not want to get angry. 

Eventually Bucky's gaze wandered from the rooms back to his new arm, and he studied the patterns of the plates on top. The design was close to the old one, but not the same. It was almost looking like the old one … but not quite …  
The arm kind of resembled him at the moment, Bucky thought.  
Old and new, something battered and beaten like his scarred shoulder, with something shiny and new like his free will almost back in his own hands now. 

“What is it?” Steve asked, setting down a tray with food, obviously having noticed Bucky staring at the empty spot on his shoulder for the hundredth time.  
“A bit strange seeing it ... blank.”

“I ... had an idea about that,” Steve said and now Bucky was interested. He smirked, scanning the room for something unusual. Like a badly hidden box or something, because not a lot of people, maybe nobody, might know, but Steve was terrible at hiding things.  
Or going undercover.  
Bucky had seen Steve in his unsuspicious civilian look and had secretly laughed a lot. 

Leaving the food and Bucky behind, Steve went to his bedroom and came back moments later with a wooden box, its dark green color fading from frequent use. 

 

“Let’s make it yours,” Steve had simply said, opening the box so Bucky could see the tubes of color and brushes inside.

“Only if you want,” Steve added quietly. 

Bucky was silent for a moment ... then a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He didn’t notice until Steve smiled back at him. 

“Great idea … I … thanks,” was all he managed, suddenly embarrassed. 

They weren't watched anymore, or at least Bucky hadn't noticed any cameras like there were in the hospital. And he also doubted that T'Challa would do this.  
He didn't seem like someone spying on his guests, or else he probably wouldn't have let them go to Steve's place. 

So technically, Bucky was free to speak his mind. 

Which, in turn, was the very reason his mouth opened without a sound now and he promptly closed it again, not having said anything more. 

If Steve noticed anything, he didn't say.  
“Let's eat first,” the blond said and nodded towards a tray with a colorful assortment of fruit cut up – right, Bucky should stick to light meals for the next few days, doctor’s orders. He didn’t quite understand the neccessity for a light diet, because the last few years he’d done just fine trying out all kinds of candy and fast food he could get his hands on – each decade had their very own take on delicious food and Bucky had always liked trying everything. Still, he would do his best to follow the doctor’s advice, since the people in this county put themselves in danger every day that Bucky stayed within their borders. 

They ate mostly in silence, exchanging a few words every now and then when Bucky asked for some background info on the news he'd seen or if Steve had a little story to tell from the past ten months.

“Do you know where the others are? - Wait, I remember a giant,” Bucky said doubtfully, thinking that his brain might have something wrong there. Steve actually laughed at this one, and the sound made Bucky smile.  
This was something he wanted to remember forever, and he wished he could have one of those new phones that could record things, just so that he could record Steve's laugh.  
“No, there was a giant. Ant-Man, you remember? Scott Lang?”  
“Ah, yes, him. Okay, then I'm not crazier than usual.”

“Well, so do you know where the others are?”  
Steve shrugged, a gesture he's always had, even back when he was just that little guy.  
“Not always. I know they're on the run, too. And contacting me would be the worst thing they could do when trying to hide.”  
“True. Do they know they could come here?”  
“Some. Some chose to just drop off the radar for a while.”  
Bucky just hummed, understanding the motivation behind that. After Hydra, after the fall of SHIELD, he just wanted to get away, find out who he was. He needed to do that alone.  
Sometimes it was good to be alone and collect your thoughts.

To lighten the mood a bit – because let's face it, Bucky had his fair share of dark thoughts – Bucky wanted to know more about the country. Steve said he's found a new favourite food and wanted Bucky to try it, a pretty simple dish with rice, that maybe the doctors would allow him to have.  
Bucky knew he would have to get back to the hospital, but... he found himself not wanting to.

“Alright, come on,” Steve said all of a sudden, and Bucky realized he'd been caught staring at his new arm again, lost in thought. He pulled Bucky over to the large window and set down his brushes and colors.

“What are you painting?” Bucky asked while sitting down on the floor, and he felt an itch in the back of his head. That distinct feeling of deja-vu hitting him, because there had been a situation somewhere in the past where he'd asked Steve the same question.  
“You'll see,” the blond answered mysteriously, making Bucky huff out a laugh, but turn obediently so that his shoulder faced the window. Steve took a seat between him and the glass, so he'd have the best lighting. 

 

Bucky shivered when he heard the first stroke of the brush against the metal plate of his shoulder. 

“You’re not cold, are you?” Steve asked into the silence between them.  
“You know I can’t really feel anything with that arm, right?” Bucky replied jokingly but Steve just rolled his eyes at him, gesturing his brush at Bucky’s bare torso. There was a towel on his lap just in case any color dripped and got on his pants.  
“I meant the rest of you.”  
“Rest’s fine,” Bucky mumbled, trying not to think of anything anymore. Even that posed a bigger challenge than he wanted to admit to himself, with Steve so close Bucky could feel his breath on the sensitive tissue on his neck where metal met flesh. 

“Good,” Steve said absently and Bucky fought the urge to look over, but lost. Steve looked at his arm in utter concentration, his blue eyes darker now than in the direct sunlight outside. He looked happy, like he always did when he painted.  
Somehow, Bucky thought it was nice to be the source of Steve's happiness, even if he could only provide the canvas for his art. Still, it was something Bucky could do for Steve – not that he himself didn't like having something that was really his. 

Bucky knew he would always remember that red star on his shoulder, the stamp Hydra marked him with as their own. But now, everytime he looked over, he wouldn't see it anymore. Instead, there would be something that reminded him of Steve, of … of love. 

He shuddered again, overwhelmed by just this one word appearing in his mind. 

“You okay?” Steve asked, his voice darker now, just like his eyes, his own mind probably deep in concentration over his artwork.

“Yeah, go ahead,” Bucky mumbled, unable to accept all those feelings swirling around inside him. It was too much, way too much for his brain to handle, to he had to shut it out for now. 

Steve continued his work, switching brushes and colors every now and then, probably oblivious to the chaos Bucky tried to sort out inside himself. 

One by one, the assassin let those thought trickle into his consciousness, weighing them and assessing their importance. And he tried to think back to what happened right before he last stepped into cryo. 

There was a fight … snow, cold – the Arctic. They had been there … for the other Winter Soldiers. Bucky almost sighed when he thought back to their fate, half glad that it happened and half horrified that this could have been him.  
Maybe should have been.  
Nothing he would want, not with … Steve now at his side like this, but … still, maybe something necessary.  
He knew he could never tell Steve about that thought, so Bucky locked it up again deep inside his mind. 

They had left the Arctic after fighting Stark.  
Steve had left the Shield.  
Bucky's teeth clenched when he thought about it. It made him angry. Red, hot, pulsing anger running through him at the thought of Steve leaving one of his few own possessions behind. 

Bucky realized that this probably wasn't so different from him loosing the arm in the battle. To Steve, leaving the Shield must've felt similar.  
Sure, he might not have realized at first, but later, something in his eyes - 

Wait, Bucky thought, reeling back when memories became tangled and messy. He shook his head, apologizing right away when Steve pulled his hand away.

“Are you really not cold? Wait, let me ...” he said then, reaching over to where a blanket was neatly folded next to some throw pillows. Bucky wondered how often Steve sat at this window while drawing.  
Steve shook out the blanket and draped it over Bucky's other shoulder.  
“Better?”  
“Yes,” Bucky lied, because none of this was because he was cold. 

“Steve.”  
“Yes?”  
“Did … Steve, we … what did we do after fighting Stark?”

The brush strokes stopped and when Bucky finally brought himself to look over, Steve was staring at his shoulder. Bucky couldn't yet see the picture, didn't want to lift his arm to do so, but he did see the faint blush appearing around Steve's nose.  
“I … I, uh … what do you remember?”

Bucky almost laughed, because Steve had always been a terrible liar. For a moment, Bucky wanted to reply “nothing”, but then he thought that maybe this would hurt both of them too much. With the mixed up images in his mind, that would be the wrong course of action.  
So, eventually, Bucky replied with the truth.  
“I don't know. Something's mixed up.”  
“Mixed up?”  
“Happens sometimes. Don't know what happened when and if at all.”

“Oh.”

For the longest time, neither of them said anything. Bucky assumed Steve would just drop the conversation, but then he spoke again. 

“What do you remember?”

Now it was Bucky who contemplated not answering. Then again, that faint blush on Steve’s cheeks was something Bucky remembered he always enjoyed to see, even before the war and all that’s happened.  
“I remember that we left the Artctic in that plan you stole –“  
“I borrowed it. I brought it back, thank you very much.”  
Bucky grinned, just about reminding himself not to shrug so that he wouldn’t disturb Steve’s work.  
“Yeah, well, I remember that. And I remember that you brought us to Chile so we could go undercover for a bit. I also remember you thinking that a baseball hat counts for going undercover.”  
Okay, this time he really couldn’t help but laugh, but thankfully Steve laughed, too. He looked embarrassed ... as well he might. That was ridiculous.  
Bucky thought, if he could stay out of cryo for a bit now he should teach Steve some basic undercover rules. 

“That you remember right. What else?”

Bucky noticed that Steve sounded hesistant to ask, and if his memories were telling him the right thing, he had all reason to. 

So ... 

“I remember that we shared a bed in Chile. It was too warm.”

Steve went very still beside him, only the brush moving over Bucky’s metal arm. 

“I remember that we kissed. I remember a lot more than just kissing.”

 

“You remember right,” Steve said and Bucky almost startled when a hand caressed his cheek. It wasn't the hand with the paint stains – this one was now clutching the wooden brush like a lifeline.  
Steve had reached out for him and now pulled him close. 

Bucky could have easily leaned back, shook off Steve’s hand – hell, he was probably one of the few people who could just knock Steve over to the far side of the room. 

But he followed Steve’s lead. Leaned into the touch and dipped his head just a little when Steve kissed him.

 

It was their first kiss in a history of so many first kisses.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!  
> I know, I'm terrible at updating, it's been forever. But because I want this work to turn out good, I'll invest some more time on it, so please bear with me =)
> 
> Enjoy reading <3

It was their first kiss in a history of so many first kisses. 

They had one that was their real first kiss – after a long night out and one too many glasses of alcohol, back before the war started. With both of them on unsteady feet, stumbling about in the hallway on the way to their shared apartment, probably waking half of the house with the ruckus they caused, laughing and hugging, eventually, maybe accidentally, kissing. Laughing more, cheeks red from both the alcohol and the kiss.  
A day after that they had their first sober kiss, standing in their kitchen, the sunlight streaming in and making everything just a bit too bright.  
Then there was the first kiss they had after Steve changed, and a lot more following that, when they both discovered what super soldier stamina really meant. So many more kisses, shared in the icy nights out during the war, huddled up in tents or sleeping bags or sometimes just against each other, the stars glistening above them. 

Bucky smiled when they parted, because he remembered all this. Every single kiss of them was etched into his mind, the most vivid of all his regained memories. 

Steve’s gaze was glued to Bucky’s lips still, and for a moment Bucky thought he would lean forward for another kiss, but then he ducked his head and showed this smile of his, this special sweet way his lips would curve just so, that was always only reserved for Bucky to see.  
It unleashed another avalanche of memories, from birthdays shared and sweet nothings mumbled to each other on lazy Sunday afternoons, and Bucky was momentarily lost in the beautiful time capsule his mottled mind held onto. Thank god it did.

Bucky wanted to reach out with his flesh hand and touch Steve, but at the same time he was too afraid to break the moment. Not yet, not now.  
Hopefully they would still have some time to touch. 

“I … I didn't want to say anything, because...” Steve trailed off, eventually picking up the brush again and resuming his work.  
“Because you didn't know if I'd remember? You can say that, Steve,” Bucky replied, almost  
exasperated, because of course he could. Steve could say anything, that's how it's always been between them.  
“That, too,” Steve admitted and there was something else he wasn't saying. He carried on painting on Bucky's arm while the brunet was in thought again. Bucky watched for a few quiet minutes, then looked up to gaze at Steve’s eyes.  
“Were you afraid? That I … regretted it?”  
“Yes.”

Silence lingered between them until Steve put down his brushes and picked up a small bottle and a cotton ball from a box of art supplies. He drenched the ball with whatever was in the bottle and began dabbing on the arm.  
“I don't. Regret it, I mean. I don't;” Bucky clarified, felt like he needed to, although he couldn’t fathom how Steve could think he’d regret it. Granted, Bucky’s memories of that last night they shared were spotty, but what he could remember was something he didn’t want to forget ever again.  
“Me neither,” Steve answered right away, not a beat of hesitation between them. Bucky’s mouth twitched, not yet smiling but close to it. 

Steve worked on his arm again and Bucky bit his tongue, but was eventually unable to hold back. Grinning wide, he mumbled: “I mean, I don’t remember much, but what I _do_ remember is … pretty good.”  
Steve’s hand stilled mid-air, some clear liquid dripping from the cotton ball onto the fingers holding it. He stared into Bucky’s eyes, Bucky staring at him in turn, suddenly unsure if this joke had gone too far, but not yet backing down from his smile. He’s worked up the courage to show it and now he’d see how long he could pull it off. 

Suddenly Steve’s expression shifted, his brows shot up, eyes widened and the right corner of his mouth quirked up for just the fraction of a second. A blond strand of hair fell into his forehead when he burst out laughing. Momentarily startled by the loud noise, Bucky soon couldn’t help but join in, the two men laughing together.

“Well,” Steve began, still giggling, “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”  
Bucky grinned, just nodding quietly while Steve picked up one of the brushes.  
“I did,” he teased, glad that they could be so light-hearted together after all they'd been through. Well, mostly after all Bucky'd been through.

While Steve moved the brush this way and that they settled back into a comfortable silence and Bucky looked around the room some more. All of the books on the shelf seemed to be decorative safe for the one shelf in the middle, right in the line of sight, where the issues on drawing techniques and art history were easy to pick up. There was also a massive tome on world history in there, and Bucky wondered if he should peek inside sometime. He wasn't all that new to the world, had probably gotten more information than Steve over the last couple of years, but he guessed that some of what he thought he knew might have been constructed or twisted by his faulty memory or his handlers. 

“Done,” Steve announced, shaking Bucky our of his thoughts. The brunet looked over to where Steve was just wiping the brushes with kitchen towels and stacking them into the box again.

 

Bucky looked down at his left shoulder, immediately breaking into a smile when he spotted a variation of Steve’s shield, but instead of red and white rings they were now black and silver, letting the original color of Bucky’s arm shine through. The star in the middle was red on a black background, and Bucky hadn’t expected how grateful he was about seeing it.  
There was no reason to deny his past, Bucky himself was readily accepting it and the responsibility that came with his actions. He knew it wasn't completely his fault because of what Hydra did to him, but it was his responsibility and he'd own up to it.  
Seeing the star back on his shoulder in that way, guarded by Steve's shield, by all it's always been standing for, felt … good.  
“Thank you,” Bucky breathed, overwhelmed with just seeing this, seeing this sign of Steve always standing by his side. Just like it's always been.  
“Always,” Steve promised and slowly leaned over, lifting one hand to gently place it against Bucky’s cheek, fingers merely ghosting over the stubble. They got lost in each other’s eyes for a moment until Bucky realized that it was his move to make. Whatever that was.  
Steve gave up the control over the situation, let Bucky decide what was next, gave him a way to back out if he wanted to.  
Only that Bucky found himself not wanting to at all. 

He leaned in, slowly, asserting his feelings little by little until his lips could brush over Steve’s. The blond’s breath caught in his throat, and Bucky smiled because he could still do this. Bucky went in for another chaste kiss, and another, before allowing his lips to linger on Steve’s.  
He wanted to reach up and place his hands on Steve’s shoulders, maybe on the side of his throat, feeling his heartbeat pick up with every kiss, thrumming against Bucky’s fingertips. But he didn’t move, not trusting himself or the new arm, yet.  
“Buck …,” Steve breathed when they parted and it called up a very distant memory: fireworks on the fourth of July outside of their bedroom window, drawing colourful patterns on the walls around their naked bodies. 

Bucky tried to shake off the tug of the memory, would maybe follow it back into the past some other time when he was alone. He could push the memory aside, but the feelings connected to it held him in their firm grip, making him look into Steve’s eyes almost desperately.

“I wanna stay,” Bucky heard himself say long before his brain caught up to his mouth. It was a stupid thing to say, to demand really, but he couldn’t stop himself. “I wanna stay with you. I … I’ll go back to the ice if I have to, but … I don't want to.”  
Steve's smile fell and he looked so sad all of a sudden that Bucky regretted having admitted how he really felt. In those few years he'd spent by himself he'd made pretty good progress to deciding what he wanted and to follow his needs, but he had no idea that it was even possible for him to speak his mind like that, without even thinking about it.  
He uttered a small gasp and pulled Bucky into his arms, probably not caring the least if that startled the Winter Soldier out of him. It didn't, though.  
Bucky couldn't be sure, but he mused that Steve could do a lot of things that wouldn't startle him or get him to go violent. He was too familiar, appearing in Bucky's memories too often to be considered dangerous.  
At least that’s what Bucky hoped judging by the memories he could access.

“You don’t have to, you can stay … with me … if you like,” Steve stuttered, sounding like he might cry any moment now, making Bucky further regret his words. He didn’t want Steve to be uncomfortable because of him. But …  
“Yes, yes,” the brunet replied hastily, his mouth acting on his own again whether it was the talking or kissing Steve again.  
“You’ll stay with me,” Steve promised, both arms slung around Bucky’s shoulders as if to shield him from the whole world. 

 

Sadly the doctors had something to say about that.  
Bucky was not yet to leave the hospital at night, so Steve begrudgingly brought him back in the evening, after a long call to the head neurologist. They checked all of Bucky’s vitals again and scheduled a brain scan for the next morning while Steve was poised in a not too comfortable looking chair in one corner of the hospital room.  
He stayed until the nurses packed up their equipment, and promised the head nurse that he would just say goodbye quickly and then leave. 

As soon as the door closed Steve slid from the chair to the edge of the bed, Bucky’s arms wrapping around him without hesitation. It felt so good doing that, not thinking about it, just doing it. Following his instincts to touch, and let himself be touched in that way only Steve knew how.  
Like now, when he ran his hand over the top of Bucky’s head to the nape of his neck, the pads of his fingers pressing just that tiny bit into the soft skin, sending a rush of warmth through Bucky’s neck and back.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. For breakfast,” Steve promised, both hands now running up and down Bucky’s spine, making him shiver just a bit.  
“Think they’ll let you in so early?”  
“They have to. I’m Captain America.”  
Bucky snorted and pinched Steve’s side, giggling softly when he squirmed.  
“Becoming Captain America must’a messed with your ego.”  
“No, it’s always been that big. I just finally match it,” Steve replied dryly and they shared a private laugh. Bucky smiled when another set of knocks rapped at the door, just as Steve had brushed a kiss to his temple.  
“I guess I gotta go.”  
“Yeah. See you tomorrow.”

The excited gleam in Steve’s eyes and that shy smile were all Bucky needed to remember for the rest of the night, spreading a comfortable warmth through his chest that helped him into a thankfully dreamless sleep and made him wake up with a smile on his lips. 

Three days later the doctors finally took pity on him and let him spend a night at Steve’s.  
“One night for now, just to see how you handle the environment outside the hospital for extended amounts of time,” the head nurse said, wrapping a blood pressure cuff around his right arm and pumping the little ball connected to it. She was quite the beautiful lady, but she sure ruled over the neurology ward with an iron fist, it seemed. Nobody dared talking back to her, and Bucky wouldn't be the first to try, not with the fierce gleam he spotted in her eyes.  
“Yes, Ma’am.”  
“You immediately call for us when you don’t feel well.”  
“Yes, Ma’am.”  
“No drinking, no- “  
“No smoking, no heavy foods, not too much TV. And I’ll tell Steve should I get sick to my stomach, dizzy, get a headache, tingly fingers or toes, cold sweats or feel pressure to my temples or chest,” Bucky finished, counting off everything the nurses had told him the past few days.  
“Exactly,” she snapped, giving him a questioning look out of slightly narrowed eyes.  
“I promise I’ll be good,” Bucky said with a small quirk of his lips, hoping to look like a good patient.  
“I sure hope you keep that promise,” she mumbled and Bucky had to grin, amused that she wasn't the least bit intimidated by him, and happy that he got to spend more time with Steve. 

 

Bucky waited as patiently as he could – granted, he wasn’t very good at that, ever since he’d gotten used to taking the matters of his life into his own hands. The moment he realized that he really could have anything he wanted, do anything he wanted, whenever he wanted to, that was exactly what he would do. Instantly.  
Finally Steve stepped into his hospital room and Bucky pushed out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.  
“Steve,” he mumbled with a smile, unable to hold this kind of reaction back.  
“Hi, Buck,” the blond said and closed the door behind himself before quickly striding over. 

Bucky was sitting on the edge of his bed, his legs dangling over the edge. Steve strode over to him, that big, perfect smile on his lips that transported Bucky the whole 70 years back in time whenever he saw it. Back when he didn’t have all these memories and a life full of torture and murder weighing on his shoulders, when he was still full of hope and happiness.  
Yeah, truth was, seeing Steve made Bucky feel incredibly happy deep down.  
He might not have been able to let that feeling take over just yet, but he was readily acknowledging it for what it was. 

Bucky was quite surprised when Steve closed in on his personal space and leaned down, his head turning slightly. They almost kissed, almost, but Steve gasped and jerked his head back.  
“Oh god, sorry, I ... uh ...,” he stuttered and a blush spread from the bridge of his nose all the way to his ears.  
“It’s okay,” Bucky quickly said, a small smile tugging at his lips. He liked the feeling of a smile. He could really get used to it.  
“Oh, good, uh ... shall we get going?” Steve asked and he seemed embarrassed, which was ... quite cute. Yeah, he was cute.  
Bucky remembered that he’d always thought so of Steve. Well, at least before he tried to murder the man.  
“Yeah, let’s go.”

They took a walk around the city just to move a bit – Bucky was still not cleared for any kind of sport or training. 

Every now and then Bucky would notice Steve’s hand twitching towards his, just for the fraction of a second, then the blond would pull his fingers away again and curl them into a fist. Steve was walking on his left side, where Bucky’s new metal hand was in easy reach, hidden by a thin black glove Bucky had taken out of his backpack while he was at Steve’s place.  
They walked another block, made small talk.  
Steve’s fingers uncurled, then he tucked them into the pocket of his jeans.  
“Let’s grab a drink,” Bucky suddenly said and quickly fell one step behind to get around Steve. He turned to the left where he’d spotted a small store selling snacks. Now Steve was walking on his right side and Bucky made an effort to walk extra close to the blond, just far enough away that their hands weren’t touching involuntarily. 

They were in the middle of the busy street, heading to the store, when Steve huffed.  
So, he’d finally caught, Bucky thought, and looked back over his shoulder with a grin.  
“Jerk,” Steve muttered and reached out, closing his fingers around Bucky’s. Who found himself now really, really, liking the feeling of smiling.  
“Punk.”  
It was so easy to settle in with Steve; there was some kind of easiness in their relationship that Bucky felt was due to their past together. Wherever it came from, Bucky was glad it was there. 

 

“I think that was the longest time I’d spent in the city, ever,” Steve mentioned when they returned to his apartment, kicking the door shut behind them.  
“Are you telling me you never explored a bit?”  
“I ... really didn’t feel like it?”  
“You are still as mopey and dramatic as I remember you,” Bucky teased, grinning when Steve tried to explain himself, flustered and blushing. Yes, yes, he didn’t have that much time and the city was so big and he didn’t feel like going on his own and whatnot. Bucky still kept with his opinion of Steve just being a bit sappy.  
“Well, now that I’m on the long leash, we can explore together. _I _for one like to know my surroundings.”__  
“I will only go with you if you promise not to make fun of me anymore,” Steve replied with a sigh, but he smiled sweetly as he got them glasses out of the kitchenette cabinet.  
“I would never,” Bucky replied right away, smirking as he sat down on the sofa.  
“You know what, Barnes, you’ve gotten quite comfortable here, huh?”  
“I have.”  
Steve turned to him, one glass of sparkling water in hand, one on the kitchen island. He seemed surprised about Bucky’s honest words for a moment, then he smiled.

“If you want, you can stay. Not just tonight, I mean,” Steve offered, carrying the glasses over to place them onto the coffee table, but Bucky could only shrug.  
“That’s not up to me. If I’m not back at the hospital tomorrow I’m afraid that head nurse is gonna rip my new arm clean off. She’s scary.”  
“And that's coming from you? I better not get in her way, then,” Steve joked, and casually slung an arm around Bucky's shoulders after he'd sat down. The moment his hand touched Bucky's metal shoulder, the blond stilled, his eyes growing ever so slightly.  
“Oh, uh, is this okay?”  
“Yes, that’s very okay,” Bucky replied lightly, allowing himself to lean against Steve a little. It felt pretty good, so he put a bit more of his weight onto him. 

Although Bucky wasn’t technically allowed to have a lot of contact with the media, they did stream a movie in the evening. It was a kid’s movie, with animated figures jumping about on the screen, but the story was quite lovely – and, to comply to the hospital’s conditions at least a bit – quite mellow. There weren't any big explosions, and loud crazy scenes, and certainly no flashing lights.  
Steve had made them pizza and promised Bucky not to tell the nurses. For all they knew, Bucky's had white rice and steamed vegetables for dinner, like the good patient he was.  
“They won't even let me smoke,” Bucky complained while he eyed a box of candy sitting on the kitchen counter. The seal on the side was already broken, so this was something Steve had gotten for himself. Bucky couldn't read the language, but the picture on the box showed chocolate, milk and something golden, probably caramel.  
“You still smoke?” Steve asked, his tone relaxed and comfortable, his posture open, until he realized what he'd just said. He basically asked whether or not the Winter Soldier was either willing or allowed to smoke. Most likely something he was now embarrassed to having said, Bucky mused. 

“From time to time. Whenever my … mission was long enough for me to remember that I liked it. - I suspect the doctors want me to quit.”  
“Well, it is healthier,” Steve mumbled and sounded like he made a real big effort of pretending like he wasn’t uncomfortable.  
“So is having both arms and not being frozen,” Bucky replied lightly, realizing just after he’d said it that this might have been too far for Steve. The poor guy had gone pale and Bucky made a mental note to be less blunt in the future. He had grown accustomed to think whatever he wanted to, and thus he also voiced his thoughts straight forward. 

“Anyway, I liked that movie,” Bucky quickly changed the topic, nodding to the screen that now had the names of everyone involved in production scrolling by.  
“Yeah, it was pretty good,” Steve agreed and there was a barely audible little sigh at the beginning of the sentence, so maybe he was glad for something easier to talk about.

For a moment, they sat in comfortable silence, just the little chime of the movie’s main theme in the background as the credits still rolled over the screen. Incredible how many people worked on making those little figures jump around, Bucky mused.  
“We didn’t have much time after the fight, did we?” Bucky asked all of a sudden, just following his mind again wherever it wanted to go. Steve’s head turned to him abruptly and Bucky almost sighed, because he’d probably gotten them onto the tracks of another disliked topic. Oh, well, maybe Steve would just have to get used to it. At least sometimes.  
“We didn’t,” he agreed, leaning against the back of the couch.  
“It’s nice to talk.”  
Funny enough they both fell silent after that. Bucky had no idea what ran through Steve’s mind, but he himself was occupied with the realization that it was here, in their exile in Wakanda, that they’d gotten the opportunity to just talk. Without threats or brainwashing getting in the way.  
It’s been literal decades since they last sat together and talked.  
Bucky couldn’t remember when exactly the last time’d been, and he almost asked Steve about it, but held his tongue. Reminding Steve of all the time and pain that separated them would absolutely kill the mood. 

“So, who sleeps on the couch?”  
Steve looked over with a confused expression only to see Bucky grinning wide and happy about catching the blond off guard.  
“You know what, Barnes?” he started and laughed, leaning in a bit. He carefully slung an arm over the back of the sofa, resting a hand on Bucky's shoulder.  
Bucky decided he's had enough of Steve keeping his distance and gently pulled at Steve's wrist, making his arm fall around Bucky's shoulders. Yeah, that felt a lot better.  
“But really ... are you okay with ... sharing a bed?” Bucky asked quietly, feeling Steve’s eyes on him but unable to meet his gaze.  
“Of course. It’s not like we never did.”  
“Yeah, I remember. But that was before ... all this. Now ... I got nightmares. – Look, it’s okay if I sleep on the couch.”  
“I don’t mind, Bucky. Really. Even if you’re probably the only person who could kick me out of bed.”  
Bucky smiled, but he did see the brief change in Steve’s eyes. The blond was worried about Bucky and now matter how hard he tried to hide it, Bucky easily saw through him.  
Still, a small part of him wanted to believe Steve wasn’t afraid of him one bit, so Bucky leaned his head against Steve’s shoulder, testing how he felt about that. It was nice, he concluded after a moment, so he stayed. 

“Did you really just sit around in here for ten months?” Bucky asked because he just couldn’t let that go. Steve laughed quietly and let his head drop back.  
“Well, I ... I was busy ...”  
“Moping. You were busy moping.”  
“No! I-“  
“You moped around. For _ten months_ ”  
“What do you expect me to do when I just got you back only to see you get back into cryo?” 

Steve had said it lightly, as if it was the most natural reaction to have.  
“Did you miss me?” Bucky then asked, his mouth once again faster than his brain. He could’ve kicked himself for that question. Whatever had been between them in the past – and Bucky remembered enough to know there was quite a lot – it wasn’t time yet to revert back into that. Quite possibly things would never be the same again, because of all the things that happened to them. It was definitely too soon to talk about love.  
“Of course I did,” Steve now answered, and his voice was so soft it made Bucky shiver with excitement and almost wince at the same time. Not now, too soon, his brain yelled.  
“I missed you, too,” he heard himself say and at that point his brain had just resorted to a non stop scream. It was almost comical.  
“If everything goes well you don’t have to go back anymore,” Steve said and for once Bucky was smart enough to shut his mouth. He didn’t want to destroy Steve’s hopes just yet. There was just so much that could go wrong, would possibly go wrong ... but maybe, just maybe, Bucky was infected with the little shimmer of hope as well.  
Wasn’t he allowed to hope? A little? 

He felt Steve lean over and the corners of his mouth twitched in an almost-smile when Steve kissed his temple. This time Steve hadn’t asked for permission before, just done it, which was ... nice. That Steve felt he could just do this. And that Bucky felt safe enough to let him do it.  
But maybe he should’ve said something when Steve’s hand caressed his cheek, feeling the light stubble there and holding on so very gently. Yeah, Bucky should have definitely said something when Steve leaned over and whispered something that Bucky didn’t catch, because he was too preoccupied staring at Steve’s lips.  
Alright, he should really have said something ... only he didn’t know what. 

The only word that he breathed out was Steve’s name before their lips met in a slow, tender kiss. 

They parted only for a split second, feeling each other’s breath on their skin, looking into each other’s eyes. For that brief moment, the world stopped spinning and there was nothing in the universe anymore except the deep blue of the other’s eyes.  
A comfortable warmth spread through Bucky’s chest, almost reaching the seam of his new metal arm, when he noticed the smallest smile tugging at the corners of Steve’s lips.  
The thought _he’s beautiful_ appeared in Bucky’s mind and he leaned back in for another slow kiss, feeling the familiar pang of past memories surfacing as he made new ones in the present. 

Steve sighed into the kiss, a quiet but needy sound that lured Bucky in even more. He pushed himself closer to Steve, letting the blond wrap his arms around him, while Bucky only held onto the front of his shirt with both hands.  
When the tip of Steve's tongue slid over his bottom lip in a silent plea, Bucky didn't even have the mindspace to ask himself whether or not he liked this, he just tilted his head and opened up to Steve. So much with him was second nature to Bucky and it was strange and exciting at the same time to reclaim this. 

“We shouldn’t,” Steve began and Bucky quickly shut him up with another kiss, unable to stop himself, but hummed his agreement in the other’s mouth.  
“We should wait,” Bucky eventually mumbled against Steve’s lips, shuddering when he felt soft fingertips tracing the sliver of skin underneath the hem of his shirt.  
“Yeah." 

They didn’t wait. 

Not when Steve tugged off Bucky's shirt, only briefly breaking their kisses to breathe or move fabric out of the way. Not when Bucky lost himself in the moment and almost broke Steve's belt.  
Not when Steve laughed, his lips plump and red from kissing, his opened pants riding deliciously low on his hips when he pulled Bucky into his bedroom.  
They fell onto the royal blue comforter that covered the bed, the soft fabric whispering underneath them. Bucky huffed against Steve’s lips when Steve pushed him down into the mattress, and the blond broke their kiss right away.  
“Sorry, so-“  
He didn’t get to go on, Bucky’s lips already claiming his, the brunet’s tongue sliding into his mouth to explore and tease. Steve’s moan vibrated against his lips and Bucky almost lost himself in it, the sound sending warm shivers own his spine. Suddenly Steve’s hand was on his wrist, fingers pressing harder than for just a caress, and Bucky opened his eyes, his head snapping back with a gasp. 

“Bucky...” Steve managed and followed him, as if he couldn’t help himself and found no way to stop the small, chaste kisses he pecked on Bucky’s lips. Eventually he leaned back, albeit reluctantly, to look into Bucky’s eyes. “We ... uh, I really ... don’t want to agree to anything you’re not ready to."

“Steve, I might have some troubles, but I’m still capable enough to consent,” Bucky chuckled, but took on a more serious expression before he continued. “I promise I’ll let you know when I don’t want something. Okay?”  
“Yeah.”  
“You know I already threw you out the window and I’m willing to do it again if that helps you relax.”  
That made him laugh, a sweet, bashful chuckle that Bucky remembered liking a lot.  
“Okay, okay ... uh ... way to kill the mood, I guess.”  
“You didn’t. It’s .... good that you ask,” Bucky replied, meaning every word. Even he himself had no idea what he did or didn’t like, and it might change anytime. Despite that one time after their last fight with Stark, Bucky couldn’t recall having been intimate with anybody for decades, and even with Steve it’d been a heat-of-the-moment type thing. Both of them utterly out of control.  
Now, with enough quiet time for just the two of them, Bucky honestly feared his feelings. He couldn’t possibly guess how he would react to Steve 

Slowly, Bucky tilted his chin up to prompt Steve to kiss him again, almost smiling when the blond did so. He let Bucky take charge, let the brunet’s hands roam over his body and Bucky’s tongue slide over his bottom lip to ask for more.

When Steve’s hand settled on the back of his hip, Bucky knew he wanted to flip them over, but stopped him.  
“Oh, is ... is this not ... okay?” Steve asked, out of breath and with that nice flush to his cheek and neck. Seeing him like this, Bucky was tempted to brush off his worries, but he forced himself to lay back down and let Steve be on top of him.  
“I won’t ... I won’t wanna ... hurt you,” Bucky mumbled, straining to find the right words, so he vaguely gestured with his metal hand. No way would he get that thing anywhere near Steve, let alone inside him.  
“You wouldn’t,” Steve argued, his voice husky and making Bucky wonder what the blond was thinking about that had him looking at his polished silver fingers so intently.  
“I won't risk it.”  
“Okay.”  
Steve dropped his gaze between them, nodding as if to himself,  
“I still want this,” Bucky softly reminded, guessing Steve’d ask again soon. The blond chuckled and bowed his head, letting himself be pulled onto Bucky. 

Leaving his metal hand mostly on the pillow, Bucky reached down with his right hand to hook his thumb underneath the waistband of Steve’s boxers. His pants already sagged down his thighs and Bucky suddenly wished he could see that.  
A brief smirk played on Steve’s lips. Bucky could feel it against his own. That smirk soon faltered and instead Steve moaned into their kiss when Bucky pulled him in, sliding his hand past Steve’s shorts to knead his ass. While Bucky slowly worked Steve’s underwear down with only one hand, the blond nudged Bucky’s head to the side to kiss along his jawline, to his earlobe and then slowly trail down his throat.

Suddenly the ceiling darkened, turning into fabric pulled taut by strings. He was in a tent, Bucky realized, sighing under Steve’s lips just like he did decades ago in the midst of war and chaos.  
He could smell the soap they used to wash the sheets, cheap but clean, as Steve gently turned Bucky’s head, kissing the exposed side of his throat.  
Only when Bucky noticed his left hand on the sheets next to his head, and saw shiny silver fingers instead of real skin, he was catapulted back into the present, shocked and ashamed that something like this could happen to him so easily.  
“You okay?” Steve asked, his voice whisper-soft, lips brushing over Bucky’s collarbone.  
“Yeah.”  
Bucky looked down, the pillows underneath his head rustling softly, and he watched Steve breathe gentle kisses onto his marred skin. A broken moan escaped Bucky's lips and he had to look away from the almost too intimate caress. He couldn't feel Steve's lips press onto the scars around his left shoulder where metal met flesh, but the sounds and the simple knowledge of what he did made Bucky shiver. 

Somewhere during his mental time travel, Steve must’ve removed the rest of Bucky’s clothes, and Bucky sighed when Steve’s hips ground against his, rubbing both their erections against each other. 

Steve was gentle to an extend that Bucky was sure he didn’t deserve. Artist’s nimble fingers knowing where to press and where to only softly caress to make Bucky’s body open up to him. It felt strange to have someone that close, but at the same time it was perfect because it was Steve.  
Fight instincts, nourished by Hydra for excruciating decades, urged Bucky to get at least some distance between them. But his real self, hidden somewhere underneath all the confusion and pain, made Bucky arch up into each of Steve’s touches.  
This was right.  
He knew it, felt it deep in his bones, all the way down to that old version of him that occasionally peeked through the Soldier’s shell Bucky himself tried to break. 

He only nodded when Steve asked him if he was ready, watching how the dimmed light played on Steve’s naked body as the blond sat up to reach for the bedside table. There was a bottle of lube on the bed next to Steve’s thigh and Bucky reached for it, carefully dripping some on his flesh hand and reaching down.  
Steve had prepped him already, and he could feel his muscles loose and relaxed when he slipped two fingers in. Still, nerves got the better of him and Bucky made sure to get some more lube into himself just to be safe.  
“We can stop, if you want,” Steve whispered, a condom in hand and his eyes glued to where Bucky’s fingers sunk into his own body.  
“No. I want it,” Bucky replied equally quiet, not daring to break the atmosphere between them. 

Bucky watched Steve roll on a condom – weirdly enough Bucky wasn’t sure if they’d ever used one, but they certainly hadn’t the last time. He didn’t want to ask about it, so he settled back into the pillows, keeping his metal hand firmly next to his head.  
When Steve was done, he looked up at Bucky’s eyes, maybe searching for some sign that he should stop, but he soon averted his gaze when he didn’t find it. Realizing he might have been staring Steve down a bit, Bucky slid his right hand up Steve’s bicqp, admiring the soft skin over powerful muscle teasing his fingertips. He reached Steve’s shoulder and held onto it, pulling his lover down.

Bucky sighed out a breath when he felt Steve slowly push into his body, staring up into Steve’s eyes, almost drowning in the other’s loving gaze.  
“You okay?” the blond asked yet again, leaning back just a little to give Bucky some space.  
“Yes,” he just said, and there weren't enough words in all the languages of the world to say how much Steve meant to him. It wasn't all back yet, not all of the memories that made up the reason why Bucky loved him so much. 

Last time had been different. With his arm and Steve's shield gone, with both of them on the run, they'd been vulnerable. Desperate.  
Last time had just been clinging to each other, touch starved and afraid the other might just vanish into thin air, nothing more than a taunting dream. 

This time, it was just the two of them for the rest of the night, and every night to follow if they wanted to. No threats, no fights waiting for them.  
Bucky was dizzy just thinking about all the time they had together, all the possibilities that were just laid out before him, waiting to be seized. He realized, he could decide.  
Right now, there was no more running away, they were safe here, they could both concentrate on things other than who to punch next. On healing physical and psychological wounds, yes, but also, maybe most importantly, on letting their relationship heal. 

Maybe it wasn’t the smartest decision to jump in bed right away, and there certainly was a lot they still had to work out on their own and between them. But for now, just this night, this moment, it was what they wanted. 

Their moans sounded through the otherwise silent apartment when Steve started to move, just pumping his hips back and forth slowly. Groaning under the strange and yet so familiar sensations of having Steve inside his body, Bucky let his head drop back, clinging onto Steve’s shoulder with his right hand. His left hand whirred softly when Bucky curled it into a fist involuntarily, to keep himself from grabbing Steve with it.  
“You good?” Steve panted, sounding like he’d just finished a marathon.  
“Yeah,” was all Bucky managed to wheeze, too caught up in the sensations bombarding his system. 

After a few minutes of them moving in absolute synch with each other, Bucky’s mind was deliciously empty, he felt more relaxed and just ... home.  
Yeah, this was home.  
Steve’s body moving with his own, Steve’s lips on his own. 

“More ...” he heard himself demand quietly, more a whine than a real order, but Steve complied nonetheless. He held onto the headboard with one hand, and onto Bucky’s hips with the other, giving himself enough leverage to thrust into Bucky in a way that made them both moan loudly. 

Another wave of pleasure crashed over Bucky’s heated body and he almost called for a stop, because all those sensations dared to be too much, even though he wanted more still. Eyes rolling back before his lids fluttered close, He felt so much more than he had in years, both his mind and body reacting in ways to Steve that Bucky’d never thought possible. Sure, he’d been aware of his feelings for this man, knew that in the past, they’d been inseperable, but the moment they were skin on skin all this seemed to multiply infinitely. 

Bucky’s breath caught in his throat.  
“Steve ...’m close … so close ...!”  
“Me, too,” the blonde just managed to grind out between powerful thrusts, shaking the whole bed and what felt like the entire house, too. 

“Hold on,” Steve whispered, taking hold of both of Bucky's knees, hoisting them up onto his arms. It felt amazing, but Bucky had to shake his head.  
“No,” he bit out, opening and closing the fingers of his left hand again while fighting the urge to grab something and possibly crush it. He soon felt his right hand tear at the fabric of the rumpled sheets underneath them and reached up to hold onto his own metal wrist for dear life, hoping he wouldn’t damage his new arm. Just one more carefully angled push of Steve’s hips against his and Bucky came with a groan, trembling all over. Steve followed him seconds later before collapsing onto him. 

Steve started peppering little kisses to every inch of Bucky’s skin he could reach, and ever now and then he would take a breath and released it again, making it seem like he wanted to say something. He didn’t, though, not yet.  
Not yet. 

And because Bucky felt the same way – heart almost overflowing but mouth closed tight – he just wrapped both his arms around Steve’s shoulders, tangling his flesh hand into the blond’s hair and hoping he could let this gesture convey what his lips couldn’t. 

The phone rang for the tenth time the next morning when Bucky groaned, finally managing to crack one eye open and stare at the sleek device on the bedside table. Just why didn't the caller just give up?  
He lifted his chin, leaning it against Steve’s chest to see the blond still asleep, lips just the slightest bit parted, head turned to the left.  
Bucky wondered why Steve wasn’t hearing the annoying sound blaring through the apartment – there had to be another phone somewhere in the living room that joined the one next to them. It didn’t stop, not even after a full minute, so Bucky sighed quietly and reached over with his metal hand that had been resting on Steve’s chest.  
The new fingers moved so delicately around the receiver that Bucky wasn’t afraid to crush it like he had been with those new rectangular glass phones he’d seen in stores.  
“Hello?” he asked, voice hoarse and deep from having just woken up.  
_“Mr. Barnes, you were supposed to check back into the hospital three hours ago!”_

He’d jumped out the bed before the nurse could finish her sentence. 

**Author's Note:**

> I also have a Tumblr where I post my writing stuff and random things, so if you like, follow me [ here. ](http://lunarogersofficial.tumblr.com/)


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